


I Can't Believe You're Cheating on Ginny with a Slytherin

by muchmorethanaprincess



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, Modern AU, accidentally matching costumes, halloween party
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-30
Updated: 2015-10-30
Packaged: 2018-04-28 20:56:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5105480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/muchmorethanaprincess/pseuds/muchmorethanaprincess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Clarke's new in town, Raven threatens retaliation if she doesn't attend her Halloween party. Clarke concedes, but she doesn't expect to run into her student's hot older brother, or for him to be wearing a costume that accidentally matches hers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Can't Believe You're Cheating on Ginny with a Slytherin

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written in response to the prompt from Caitlin (blakesdoitbetter): Bellamy and roomies Miller and Raven are hosting a Halloween rager and Raven brings Clarke who just moved here and she and Bell have matching costumes. Insert making out here.
> 
> Some things ended up a little different though. Hope you like it!

Clarke’s been living in Ark for two months, and she doesn’t think she’s doing _too_ badly. Her job as a high school art teacher has gone pretty smoothly, and while she doesn’t necessarily have a lot of friends, she gets along well enough with her coworkers, and she hasn’t felt too lonely.

Apparently she’s overestimated her success, because two days before Halloween, Raven calls to tell her that if she doesn’t show up to the party she and her housemates are having, they’ll drag the whole event to her house.

“I wasn’t planning on doing anything this Halloween. I was going to stay at home and watch Hocus Pocus and hand out candy. I don’t even have a costume!” she protests.

“Aren’t you an art teacher? I’m sure you can whip something up.”

“And if I just don’t want to come?”

“We will camp out on your lawn. I swear to god Griffin, I’m trying to help you here. How many new friends have you made since moving?”

Clarke mumbles something incoherent.   
“I’m sorry, what was that?” Raven asks, sass in her voice.

“None, okay? I haven’t made any friends since I moved. But I haven’t been trying to, anyway! So it’s not like I’m failing.” She nearly winces at her own pathetic excuse.

“Keep telling yourself that.”

“Why do you even want to see me anyway?” Clarke mutters, half hoping Raven won’t catch it.

But she hears her exhale over the line, pausing for a moment. “It’s not your fault Finn used you to cheat, just like it’s not my fault Finn cheated on me. I’ve got cool friends, you’ll probably like them. And you seem… I don’t know, don’t make me analyze this!”

Clarke almost laughs. “Okay, fine. I’ll come. But if it sucks I’m leaving early.”

“Deal.”

 

Clarke _is_ able to throw together a costume, though she grumbles about it being lucky and not at all because of her job. She has a Slytherin scarf from when she visited London in university and went a little crazy with all the Harry Potter landmarks, so it only takes a quick trip to a Halloween store to buy a witch hat and a wand. She constructs the rest of her outfit carefully, tucking black skinny jeans into black boots and wearing a simple gray sweater with a white button-up underneath, hoping that it might pass as part of a Hogwarts uniform.

She shows up on time to the address Raven had given her, with her scarf and hat in a bag, finding an average one-story house with a small fenced-in yard. She knocks on the door, walking through cautiously when a male voice calls for her to come in. Two guys who look around her age are playing video games in the living room, and she waits awkwardly for them to look up at her. It takes a minute, but finally one of them does.

“What do you-” he cuts off suddenly, at precisely the same time that Clarke’s thoughts stop.

“Uh, Ms. Griffin, right?”

“Right, Mr. Blake. How’s your sister?”   
“Uh, she’s fine. Octavia’s fine.”

“Good, that’s good. Uh, I’m actually here for the party? Where’s Raven?”

“Oh, you’re…Clarke? _You’re Clarke?_ ”

She guesses that means _you’re the girl Raven’s boyfriend cheated on her with?_

“That would be me. Um, and you’re…” she trails off.

“Bellamy,” he says. “I’m Bellamy. Raven must have lied to you about when the party starts, she never trusts anyone to be punctual.”

“Oh, okay. But she’s here, right?”

At just that moment Raven rounds the corner, nearly toppling into Clarke.

“You’re here! Early!”

“This is when you told me to be here,” Clarke says, feeling awkward. The last time she and Raven saw each other, it was because Raven walked in on Clarke in bed with her long-distance boyfriend, a full year ago. They become facebook friends after they each broke up with him, which is how Raven knew she’d moved to town. They had exchanged a few texts, but they hadn’t actually spent time around one another.

Raven either doesn’t feel the awkwardness or is determined to avoid it.

“I’m making punch in the kitchen, do you want to help? Or you could stay out here with them,” she nods to the boys.

“No, I’ll help!” She glances back at Bellamy as she walks out. He’s wearing a black cape or cloak of some kind, but other than that, she can’t tell what his costume is meant to be. His black hair is messy in an artful way, and he holds her gaze until she’s gone.

She hears the other boy speak once she’s out of sight, and slows to listen.   
“You know her?”

“She’s Octavia’s AP art teacher.”

“Huh. Bummer.”

“What?”

“Well, you’ll never go for her if she’s Octavia’s teacher, you’re too responsible. Even though you’re clearly interested.”

She hears Bellamy splutter for a moment, and it makes her smile. But he doesn’t deny his interest, the way she expects him to. “I might go for her,” he grumbles, just before Clarke makes it to the kitchen and can’t hear them anymore.

Raven chats with her as they mix the punch and set out cheese and crackers, asking how she ended up in Ark, and Clarke finds that she actually likes her. Their situation is awkward by default, but Raven is easy to talk to, interesting and smart, and when people start filing into the house in ridiculous costumes thirty minutes later, Clarke gets to experience her wicked sense of humor.

It’s around the same time that Bellamy wanders into the kitchen, and asks Raven to “paint his scar,” because Octavia was supposed to do it, but hasn’t shown up yet. But Raven’s in the middle of prepping some kind of dip, so she nods to Clarke and says “have her do it, she’s the art person.”

Clarke frowns at her. “You know, I wish you’d stop using that against me.”

Raven only shrugs. “Maybe someday.”

Clarke turns back to Bellamy, who has a face paint kit and looks almost apologetic.

“I definitely can’t do it myself. Help?”

“Uh, what is it that I’m painting?”

“The lightning bolt scar?” he says cautiously, like he thinks she’ll refuse.

“Oh! You’re supposed to be Harry Potter?” she asks, realizing all at once. She looks him over, taking in the casual clothing under his cloak, dark jeans with a fitted long sleeve shirt. He’s got the messy black hair down perfectly, and he puts on a pair of thick-framed glasses while she’s looking. The only thing he’s missing is the “quite tall” adage in the books, but he’s several inches taller than Daniel Radcliffe, at least. He makes a perfect Harry Potter. More specifically, a perfect older, hot, in-the-middle-of-his-auror-career-Harry Potter.

“Think I can pull it off?” he asks, dragging her away from thoughts of how good his chest looks under that shirt. She only jolts a little.

“Yeah, I mean, you’re decent enough.”

He stares at her for a minute, a contemplative look on his face, until she nudges him.   
“You should probably sit, so I can do the scar?”

He follows her instruction, sitting on one of the stools at the kitchen counter. She takes the paint kit from him, opening a few of the small plastic containers on the counter and picking a brush. But once she’s ready, she hovers over him uncertainly.

“So uh, do you want like, the regular lightning bolt, the way they did it on the books and in the movies? Or do you want something more interesting?”

“I mean, if the typical one is easier for you, that’s fine. But Octavia and I had planned it out to be like—this sprawling thing that actually looks like lightning? With it branching off in different places? Am I making sense?”

She nods, “Yeah, I think I know what you mean.”

“This is going to sound weird maybe, but have you seen much Harry Potter fanart? Because there’s this one artist who does the scar to look like realistic lightning and it’s really amazing, it covers more of his forehead and-”

“I’ve seen it,” she cuts him off.

“Oh, you have?”

“Yep. Art is sort of my thing.”

“Right, of course. I guess I just didn’t picture an art teacher being interested in fanart.”

“Art teachers are interested in all kinds of things,” she shrugs, and then pulls a pin from her hair and uses it to hold some of his curly strands off his forehead.

“It was going to get in the way,” she says, when he looks at her questioningly.

She gets in the zone pretty quickly once she starts painting, so she doesn’t notice when she places her other hand under his chin, holding him gently in place. And she puts aside the way she didn’t tell him that actually, she’s the fanartist who draws Harry’s scar as a realistic, extended lightning strike. She’s sure there are some other artists online who do the same, but as far as she knows, she’s the most popular, so he’s likely seen her work.

She also puts aside how distracting his freckles are close-up, and how she can feel his warm breath puffing lightly against her arm as she works.

She doesn’t realize when he starts leaning closer, but he must, because he catches himself suddenly and pulls back a few inches.

“You smell nice,” he mumbles, not meeting her eyes.

She’s glad he won’t look at her, because his words make a blush spread over her face, and really, that’s ridiculous, because she’s only known him for like thirty minutes. But then she has to correct herself, because actually, she met him at parent’s night a month ago, and he was enthusiastic about Octavia’s education without being overbearing, and charming in a way that didn’t feel slimy, like some of the older single parents. He’d talked to her privately about whether or not he should encourage Octavia to pursue a career in art, if that was too unrealistic, and he seemed to actually care about her opinion.

She drags one of the branches of the lightning down a final stroke, making it cut through his eyebrow.

“Alright, lightning done. Let it dry before you put on your glasses or take the pin out of your hair. Was there a mirror in the hallway? You should check to make sure you like it.”

“I’m sure it’s great,” he says, but he goes to the hall to check anyway, and comes back with a large smile across his face. “It’s perfect, exactly what I had in mind. Thank you.”

She ducks her head, unable to stop feeling stupid for being pleased by his reaction.

“You’re welcome, I’m just going to…” she gestures to the hall and rushes out, needing to get away from him, but she realizes a moment later that she has nowhere to go. She finds herself in the bathroom, checking her smoky eye makeup, putting on her hat and scarf, and telling herself that she’s not allowed to be interested in her students’ guardians. It’s easy to not be interested in _parents_ , but Bellamy can’t be that much older than she is, and Octavia’s already eighteen, her birthday just passed.

Clarke also knows the rules backward and forward, and she knows that she actually _is_ allowed to date parents or guardians, so long as there’s no preferential treatment involved, and it doesn’t interfere with professionalism, so…

She’s not going to think about it. She’s not at all going to think about Bellamy’s stupidly charming boyish smile, or how he’s taller than her but not too tall, or how his shoulder had definitely been a steady place to rest her hand while she painted his face.

She’s not going to think about Bellamy Blake at all.

 

She doesn’t specifically avoid him, but the party’s actually started when she leaves the bathroom, and she finds Raven shortly after, who introduces her to people that she spends a little while making conversation with. She drinks some of the punch, which is stronger than she expected. She stops after her second cup because she doesn’t want to be anything more than tipsy.

Clarke spends some time with the boy who was playing video games with Bellamy. She learns his name is Nathan Miller, but everyone calls him by his last name, and he’s got a crush on the cute Asian kid across the room. Miller doesn’t actually tell her that, but she can tell by the way he won’t stop staring, and she bugs him about it until he tells her the boy’s name is Monty and they’re _friends, okay_. Miller is nice, quiet company, but he doesn’t protect her from Raven when she rushes toward them and demands that Clarke dance with her.

“You’re on your own!” he shouts when Raven drags her away.

Octavia (dressed as either a fairy or a butterfly, Clarke’s not quite sure, but she’s got wings and lots of glitter) finds her while she’s dancing, enthusiastically greeting her as “Ms. Griffin” and asking if she’s met Jasper and Monty yet. She leads her to the side of the room, where Bellamy’s standing with the two boys, who are dressed as a washing machine and a dryer. It’s a little weird as far as matching costumes go, but they seem a little eccentric even without taking the costumes into consideration, so.

Halfway through the conversation, an expression of recognition crosses Jasper’s face, and he blurts, “You and Bellamy have matching costumes!” which, okay, Clarke hadn’t really thought of it that way, and she’s grateful for the dim lighting, because she’s definitely blushing now. Bellamy doesn’t say anything, so she cuts in only to tell Jasper that it wasn’t planned, and Octavia deftly guides the conversation in a different direction. Trying to avoid the awkwardness, Clarke ends up in a conversation with Monty, and discovers that he is just as good of company as the boy crushing on him. He’s warm and sweet, with a good sense of humor, and Clarke feels comfortable around him. Bellamy doesn’t say much, and Clarke can’t tell if that’s his usual behavior, or if it’s because she’s there.

She tries not to think about it. Too much.

 

She’s standing in a dark corner, mostly trying to blend with the wall and avoid having to dance again. Raven gets really enthusiastic and really handsy when she’s drunk, and Clarke’s had enough at least for one night.

She almost doesn’t see Bellamy until he’s swooping in front of her, caging her in on one side with a hand against the wall.

“So who are you supposed to be? Pansy Parkinson?” he asks, his charm a little dampened by alcohol, though she can’t help but smile at his abruptness.

“I don’t know,” she tilts her head up to meet his eyes, “is Pansy even blonde?”

“I actually don’t know,” he says, looking stumped for a moment.

“I’m an indiscriminate Hogwarts student.”

“Well people keep commenting on our matching costumes. You’re kind of stealing my thunder.”

Her mouth twitches. “Nice pun.”

His brow furrows for a moment. “I wasn’t even trying. You should hear my puns when I’m really trying.”

“I bet.”

“I’m a good Harry Potter, right?” he asks suddenly.

“What do you mean? Yeah, you’re a great Harry Potter.”

He shakes his head. “Some idiot told me I couldn’t pass for Harry because I’m not white. I think she was joking, but,” he looks away, like he’s trying not to show that it bothered him.

“That’s ridiculous! Harry’s skin color isn’t even mentioned in the books!”

“I know! And that’s part of why I chose to be Harry this year. That fanart that I was telling you about, with the scar? The artist draws Harry as Desi sometimes, that’s part of what made me think of the costume.”

“Yeah,” Clarke says, deciding to just lay it out there. “That’s my art, actually.”

She watches his face carefully, waiting for the moment of recognition. She only signs her fanart with her username, but it’s a play on her last name. It’s easy to see it and just think it’s about Gryffindor as a house.

“Clarke _Griffin_ , oh my god,” he says, a little awe in his voice. “You do fanart?”

“I _told you_ , art teachers are interested in all sorts of things,” she says playfully.

“I stand corrected. Ever think about doing a half-Filipino Harry Potter?”

She presses her lips together to keep from smiling too hard. “I could be interested. I’d probably need a model, though…”

“Oh, definitely.”

They stare at each other for a moment, smiling stupidly.

“How’d you end up here?” he asks.

“Well the Death Eaters tried to recruit me,” she says dramatically, “but I refused to cooperate. I had to run away and assume a new alias, so now I’m stuck in Ark waiting out the wizarding war.”

He rolls his eyes, but the smile is still playing at his lips. He thinks she’s cute, she can tell. He’s still got his hand planted on the wall next to her face, and he’s leaning into her, like he can’t stay more than a few inches away.

“Fine,” he says, “how did your alias, Clarke Griffin, end up here?”

She sobers quickly. “My girlfriend dumped me. It was really sudden too, one day we were talking about the future, making plans. The next day she was telling me that we were too different to work long term. I got the job offer a week later.” Clarke shrugs. “It felt like as good an opportunity as any? So I said yes.”

“Well I’m glad you did.” He seems to realize what he said and tries to backtrack. “I mean, because of Octavia. Because you’re a good teacher, for Octavia.” He looks away. “Jesus Christ,” he mutters.

Clarke giggles, but decides to let him off the hook.

“So what are you doing with your life, when you’re not busy saving the wizarding world?”

“I teach history classes at the university.”

“Wow.”

“And I’m taking care of Octavia, of course.”

“Of course.” She suddenly feels like she can’t look away. It sends a thrill through her, but she still has the nagging thought that she shouldn’t allow this, so she says, “tell me about something you’re teaching?”

He looks surprised, like that’s something he doesn’t hear often, but she holds his gaze until he realizes she’s serious.

So he starts talking about one of his classes, how they’re examining various civilizations’ simultaneous development, and he’s drifting slightly closer to her with every word. Her head is still tilted up to hold his eye contact, so she notices when his gaze drops to her lips, but he pulls it back up and keeps talking, mumbled words about the Greeks during their golden age, and then his hand, the one not propped on the wall, is holding her hip gently. She still won’t look away, and when his mouth is only a centimeter away, saying something about architecture, she moves forward just enough to brush her lips against his.

He pushes back gently, and it’s just a brush of lips for a moment, until Clarke opens her mouth to sigh softly. The kiss turns into warm, wet tongues and almost bruising lips as she pulls his body against hers and he obliges, pushing her into the wall. His fake glasses push awkwardly into her cheek, but she doesn’t pay it any attention as she runs her hands up his shoulders and into his hair. He kisses her insistently, and it makes Clarke’s heart pound and her breath catch in her chest.

“I can’t believe you’re cheating on Ginny with a Slytherin,” she mumbles. He plants small kisses on her lips as she talks, and then laughs, catching her mouth again.

“Hard to resist,” he breathes. They both taste like the punch, and Clarke nibbles at his bottom lip for a moment before she pulls away softly, breathing heavily and turning her head so he can’t kiss her again. Instead, he leans his forehead against her temple, and it almost breaks her. But she can’t forget that he’s her student’s brother, and she recently was broken up with, and they’ve both been drinking. And really, she hardly knows him at all. She doesn’t want to close off the possibility of something, but she also doesn’t think it’s smart to act like potential obstacles don’t exist.

“Um, we should stop, probably,” she mumbles once she’s caught her breath.

He nods, but his whole body is still pressing her into the wall, and she really doesn’t want him to move. So of course, she starts rambling.

“I mean, I just got out of a relationship, and I only just moved here, and you’re Octavia’s guardian, this isn’t professional. I got into my last two relationships way too fast, and they both turned out terribly. We don’t even know each other, you could be way more trouble than this is worth, so we should just…hold.”

“Okay,” he says, like it’s easy, and backs away a few inches. Her eyebrows pull together as she looks at him. She nods once at his swollen lips and his hair that’s even messier than before, then steps to the side, righting her hat before darting away quickly.

 

Clarke gets drunk.

She doesn’t specifically intend to, but she also doesn’t exactly try not to. The truth is, she can’t stop feeling Bellamy’s lips on hers, and it’s distracting, so she gets more punch, and she dances with Raven again, and tries to avoid both of the Blakes, because Bellamy would be awkward to be around but Octavia, as her student, probably shouldn’t see her like this. Because of professionalism, or whatever.

Though it’s hard to think about professionalism when she’s had this much alcohol. And when she just made out with Bellamy, and can’t stop thinking about how she wants to do it again.

She also really likes all of Raven’s friends, and she’s worried that the awkwardness between herself and Bellamy will make it difficult to hang out with them again. She drunkenly shouts this to Raven, who only smirks at her and says, “I told you I was helping you!”

She notices Bellamy watching them from across the room, and that’s about the last thing she remembers.

 

She wakes up on a couch in an unfamiliar room, the taste of stale alcohol lingering in her mouth and a headache pounding against her temples. But it gets worse when she turns over, and Octavia is perched on the coffee table, watching her.

They make eye contact, and then Octavia’s yelling, “she’s up Bell!”

Clarke can’t even cover her ears in time, groaning quietly in pain.

“This is so far past professionalism,” she mumbles, hiding her face in her hands.

“People drink, Ms. Griffin, even teachers. You haven’t ruined my innocence.”

“Yeah but students aren’t supposed to _see_ their teachers drunk. Or hungover. You’re supposed to imagine it abstractly. Like the Yeti. Or the Loch Ness Monster.”

Octavia giggles, and then winks at her. “I won’t tell anyone else that drunk Ms. Griffin is real.”

“My hero.”

Octavia keeps smiling at her, and it makes her feel like squirming.

“So, Bell didn’t want to overwhelm you, or pressure you or something, but we’re going to go get pumpkin pancakes. You’re invited, but if you want to avoid him, you can sneak out after we leave.”

“Okay, hold on. We’re going to have to back up like ten steps. Are we at your house? How did I get here?”

Octavia grins. “Well, you were pretty drunk when Bell and I were leaving the party. We could have left you with Raven, but we figured a lot of other people were going to be crashing there, so you probably would have ended up sleeping on the floor.” She shrugs. “We’re only a block away from Raven’s house, so we brought you home.” A sly look crosses her face. “You were being ridiculous when we were walking home. Bellamy had to give you a piggyback ride.”

“Oh Jesus Christ,” Clarke groans, burying her face in her hands again. When she combs through her hazy memory, she comes up with an impression of her face tucked against a warm, tan neck, her legs wrapped around a steady back as strong hands gripped her thighs.

“It probably only made him five hundred times more into you. You’re kind of cute when you’re drunk.”

“Yes, well, let’s all be grateful that there was no throwing up last night. Because I can assure you, I’m not cute when I do that.”

Octavia stands from the coffee table and looks at her watch. “We’ll probably leave for breakfast in about twenty minutes. If you don’t want to come, you don’t have to say anything, just uh, wait until we leave. Raven’s house is just two lefts from here. If you do want to come, you can meet us in the kitchen. There’s a new toothbrush and some face wash in the guest bathroom.” She points to a door off the hallway.

“Okay, thanks.”

Octavia starts to walk away, but stops and turns back around. “And Ms. Griffin?”

“Yes?”

“Um, either way…I won’t let it affect our student/teacher relationship. I promise. So you should pick whichever one you actually want, not just, whichever one makes you freak out less.”

“Okay,” Clarke says. “Thanks.”

 

Clarke decides to go to breakfast with the Blakes. It is the situation that makes her freak out more, but she’d rather talk things out with Bellamy now than be awkward around him later, if she ever wants to hang out with Raven’s friends again.

She expects it to be at least a little weird, since nearly all their interactions last night were buffered by alcohol, but when she walks into the kitchen after ten minutes repairing her appearance in the bathroom, he just looks up and says “hangover food?”

It’s easy for her to smile, and say, “yes please.” Not as easy to ignore the happy jolt in her stomach when he smiles back.

She learns over pancakes that the Blakes love to tease each other, and that they really love each other.

Clarke maybe shouldn’t have gone, because seeing their sibling relationship in action only makes Bellamy more attractive. Not to mention how often he smiles at her over the table, or how he asks about her job, and her interests, doesn’t seem bored at all when she starts rambling about her fanart or the works that she’s trying to get into a gallery.

He seems genuinely interested in her. She tries to ignore the way it makes her stomach flip.

 

Octavia leaves on her own after breakfast to meet a friend, so Bellamy drives Clarke back to Raven’s place to pick up her car where she left it the night before. It’s quiet on the car ride, and Clarke is afraid that she and Bellamy will always be awkward without other people around to break the tension.

“So, I meant what I said last night, about putting this on hold for the time being,” she starts.

Bellamy glances over at her. “Okay.”

“Okay?” she says doubtfully.

“Yeah,” he says, pulling in front of Raven’s house. “You were right, Octavia’s your student, that should be the first priority. I mean, Octavia really admires you, and from everything she’s said, I trust your ability to remain professional, whatever the situation, but I understand that something like this would worry you. And if you’re fresh out of a break up and don’t feel ready for a relationship, I’m not going to fight you on that. If I wanted a casual hook-up, I’d go find one elsewhere. I don’t want one that could go down in flames and affect my sister. I’m interested in you Clarke. I can wait.”

It’s a lot to process, and she catches herself with her mouth almost gaping open. “Okay. So, we’ll be…friends?”

“Does this mean you’re joining Raven’s ragtag group of nerds?” he teases.

She shrugs. “You guys aren’t so bad.”

“Then we’ll be friends,” he agrees.

“Okay. And we can re-examine this, I don’t know, later, or when Octavia graduates, if we still feel the same.”

He smiles at her, a soft, small smile, not meant to charm or convince her into anything. “Whenever you’re ready.”

 

They’re friends, and the tension doesn’t go away, just turns into something less awkward, more burning. They stare at each other a lot. They argue in a way that somehow almost always ends in smiles, and the entire group teases them about how they’re going to date someday. She and Bellamy hardly even bother denying it.

They both know what’s between them, and Clarke repeats, “whenever I’m ready,” to herself when she wishes she could just have him already.

They do re-examine it, eight months later, after Octavia’s graduated.

They both still feel the same.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think with a comment!


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